Falling through Fiction
by Daedalus Plum
Summary: When Hermione withdraws into her mind her friends are left to sort out their own feelings and live with the consequences...
1. Knife Blade

A/N: I had this story on here before, and after taking many reviews to heart I realized that it was in desperate need of a revamping. Bad grammer, bad spelling, and just flatout bad writing, not to mention some inaccuracies having to do with autism (based on something I had read, but wrong, nonetheless…) So, here we go. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, since it was all of you who eventually kicked me into gear to fix that shameful piece of work. Here is what was formally known as Hermione's Withdraw.

"Hermione!" came the cry, and I ran faster, harder than I could go.

"Hermione, wait!" she cried again, starting after me.

There was no real chance of out running her. I had spent the last six years of my life in a library, when she trained on the Quidditch field. But I had to…I had to out run her, out of sheer determination. And I ran as fast as I could, peeling around corners, ducking into empty classrooms and behind statue passageways. I was forcing myself towards the prefect's bathroom. It was the one place in the school that I could get into and Ginny couldn't, and that was what I needed more than anything else right now. To be somewhere Ginny wasn't.

At last, I saw the door to the bathroom, whispered the password in panting breaths, and fell inside, watching Ginny running up the hallway as the opening to the bathroom disappeared behind the returning wall.

When the doorway closed, I turned my back against the wall, slumping down onto the tiles, face wet with mingled sweat and tears.

I gasped for my breath to return, but instead, I wasted every gasp I regained in consuming sobs. My face and body grew terribly cold, and I couldn't hold my eyes to focus on anything around me. Unseen needles prickled my face, my eye lids fluttered, and my vision narrowed as my gaze darted around in desperation for something to see. In a last frantic gesture, I stood. I stumbled blindly, running into walls, and at last falling, cracking my head against the porcelain pool-like tub in the middle of the bathroom.

And I awoke.

It had been a dream. I had told—

I told her. I told Ginny everything I couldn't stand for her to know.

And then I ran from everything she could say. I consciously forced my dream self to run, fearful that Ginny's answer would reflect reality. Afraid of what she would say, what that would force me to do.

I sat up in my bed in the sixth year girls' dormitory at Hogwarts, thankful that I did not share the room with her.

I pulled back my curtain slightly to be sure that Lavender and Parvati were asleep. And I cried, but still couldn't stand the hollow futility of tears.

I pushed the curtain back into place, and lifted the sleeve of my night gown, glancing down at my arm. It had been so long. Nearly three months now. But the wounds had still not healed. There was no scab. But there was scar. Not pink and fleshy, but deep in my skin, the dents and repressions that I had wanted to heal so long ago…to rid myself of the satisfied memory. But there they were, smiling up at me from my own skin, inviting me to toss aside emotion for a more bearable pain.

But as I removed the kitchen knife from beneath my pillow, and drew it for the first time across my skin, ending the tears, and the fear, and I saw the flesh roll and depart against the blade, I dropped it to the ground and recommenced my tears. The pain…what did it do more than make reality as sharp as the blade?

More reality to my life, more reality to my love, more reality to my crime. My crime against her, loving her, throwng away friendship for lust.

I sat in my bed for an endless time, awaiting the dawn, my arm still outstretched, sleeve pulled back, knife still lying on the floor

I was silent. I no longer sobbed or shook, and the tears silently rolled from my eyes for only an immeasurable instant of my eternity. My face was dry, my eyes were dry, and I did not awaken from my mind.

I withdrew. Into my head. Into my pain. And as the world became an unbearable reality, I forced it further away from my consciousness, relishing as it became an impossible fallacy.

And when Lavender and Parvati awoke in the morning, I was unaware of them. I was unaware of the dawn, of the voices. Things took place around me, and I saw them, my eyes still accepting what my mind rejected. And I stayed in my mind; deserted of pain, love, and life.


	2. Finding Hermione

Lavender woke up first Monday morning; sitting up in her bed and yawning so loudly, she caused Parvati to stir next to her. She could see a sitting silhouette through the sheer curtain of Hermione's bed next to her. "Morning, Mione," she called to her through a yawn.

Lavender turned to Parvati's bed, and swung her legs onto the floor, walking over and waking Parvati with a gentle shake. "Wake up," she said, "we've got to go to breakfast. We've all slept in. Hermione didn't wake us up…"

Parvati sat up in her bed, and brought her legs over the edge, wide-eyed. "I'm awake!" she said, brushing Lavender's hand off her shoulder. "Oh, Hermione! I'm going to kill you!" she said, stalking over to Hermione's bed in a temper.

"What the--?" she said, looking down at her foot, where she had trod on something cold— the knife on the floor, it's blade red, and a snag of skin at the tip.

"Oh!" she cried out loudly, causing Lavender to jump and come running over to her.

"What's wrong, Par--?" began Lavender, as she followed Parvati's gaze and saw the knife lying on the floor.

"Hermione!" cried Parvati, and she went tearing out of the room, while Lavender stood there stock still, too afraid to open the curtain of Hermione's bed; too terrified to move.

Parvati came running back in with several girls, Ginny at the head. "Hermione!" cried Ginny in alarm, and ran up to the bed and pulled aside the curtain.

"Oh, Hermione!" she cried in relief, as she found Hermione sitting there, looking down at her arm, but obviously living, breathing. She threw her arms around Hermione's neck in relief, but withdrew quickly at the complete lack of recognition. Ginny stepped backed, and attempted to look at Hermione's face, to catch her gaze. Hermione did not move.

"Get Professor McGonagall!" yelled one of the girls in the room, while Ginny continued to stare at Hermione: at the droplets of blood on the sheet, at the streamline cut and torn flesh on her extended forearm, and at her uncomprehending eyes. Ginny lifted Hermione's head, until the girl's eyes stared straight through her skull.

"What is going on here?" came a demanding voice from the doorway. "Miss Granger!"

Professor McGonagall approached the bedside, noticing the knife, the cuts, and the bits of blood in one sweep of the eye. "Oh, you silly girl!" she cried angrily, and dropped to her knees in front of Hermione, grasping her chin in one hand, and turning her head every which way, staring long into her eyes.

"She has not been stunned or petrified," she announced to the anxious room full of girls. "But I will need to get her to the Hospital Wing and have Madame Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore look at her to determine what's wrong."

And she picked up Hermione in a surprising display of strength, and placed her on her feet. To the surprise of many around, Hermione began to walk. And McGonagall led her out of the room, steering her the proper way to exit the dormitory.

And the room of the Gryffindor girls stood in silence, shocked and horrified. Lavender at last fell to her knees and began to sob, and Parvati came falling to her own in front of her, and grasping Lavender around the shoulders, pulling her into a hug where the two girls cried together. And slowly, the room began to fill with the sound of voices. But Ginny stood in front of the bed, where Hermione's eyes had stared through her, so blindly. Ginny looked at the blood. And to her, it seemed as though the blood had written out her name.

Harry was at lunch one Monday morning waiting for Ron to finish eating. It had not been a good day for him so far. He didn't know why, but he had a terrible weight in the pit of his stomach, and it felt as though something was sucking at the back of his heart.

Suddenly, Harry shot up from his seat. "What's wrong, Harry?" asked Ron, startled.

But Harry didn't answer; he was running back towards the Gryffindor dormitory. Ron dropped his fork quickly, and followed behind him.

"Harry! What's wrong?" asked Ron at last, as they stopped in front of the Fat Lady, and Harry bellowed the password at the portrait.

" I don't know!" cried Harry, but as the portrait flew open, it revealed Professor McGonagall, looking frazzled, and a tear sliding down her cheek.

"Oh!" came a startled sound from her mouth.

She hastily wiped away the tear streaking her face, and she straightened herself up. "Potter, step back, I need through!" she said, her voice slightly shaken, but firm nonetheless.

Harry and Ron both stepped back, and offered her an arm to steady herself on as she made her way through the portrait, but Professor McGonagall, turned her back on them, to help—

"Hermione!" cried Harry, and he helped her out, steadying her as she lowered herself onto the floor.

"What's wrong?" he said, as she stood there, unmoving.

Ron hurried over to Hermione's aid, abandoning McGonagall, leaving her to help herself out of the portrait passage.

McGonagall approached both Harry and Ron, and placed a hand on each of their shoulders, moving them gently aside, approaching Hermione and taking her arm.

"P-professor! What's wrong with her?" asked Harry, his voice trembling and cracking.

"Potter, I-I just don't know! I'm taking her to Madame Pomfrey and--and Professor Dumbledore. They'll figure it out."

And McGonagall led Hermione away from them.

Harry's eyes followed her, and he watched as her empty shell was steered away. And Harry saw her dead eyes, still, lingering in his mind. Dead eyes- he had seen so many—Cedric's…Sirius's…his own Mother's reflecting back from years of repression from Hermione's own living death.

Harry turned silently and entered the Common Room.

But Ron stood behind. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. "Hermione," he kept repeating quietly.

His heart was panging. His mind was fuzzy and disconnected. He stood a long time that way. "I--love you," he whispered at last, and disappeared through the portrait hole, his pain weighing down in his chest, making him almost to hevay for the climb through.

He remembered the pain he had felt the night before, causing him to sit up in alarm in his bed. It had felt then as though someone had shut off his thoughts. He had been in the middle of a dream, when his mind when terrifyingly blank and black. He had sat up and stared in literal blindness for several minutes before his sight moved out of his mind to the room.

He had thrown the feeling away this morning. He figured that the falling into a deeper sleep and unconsciousness had caused the blankness, which had jolted him out of sleep. And the blindness, he had reasoned, had only been his eyes adjusting to the dark around him.

He didn't believe it now. He was afraid of how he knew this, but he was positive that it had somehow been Hermione who had done it to him; Hermione, who had caused the world to wipe away.

Just as he now wiped away his tears.


	3. Ron's Realization

Neither Ginny, Ron, nor Harry went to their classes that day. They all sat in the Common Room together, not looking at each other, not talking. They were all thinking about the same thing; her eyes. Hermione's eyes.

Ginny was confused by the incident, self-doubt consuming her. Could it be her fault?

Ron was in a terrible condition, occasionally bursting into tears and silent, body-shaking sobs, praying for her to get better, praying for her to be all right.

But Harry did not feel sad. Anger burned and swelled in his breast. He was angry with Hermione for allowing anything to happen to her. He had noticed something Ron had not, too: the cuts on Hermione's arm, for McGonagall had forgotten to roll down her sleeve. How could she do anything so painful to herself? She knew all he had lost: how could she do that to herself and to him?

Harry and Ginny seemed to be suffering a common pain. Neither of them seemed able to connect to Ron. His tears set him apart. They were beyond any tearful expression, or else their emotions were too complicated to be expressed that way.

Harry stood, at last, around one in the afternoon. None of them had eaten since breakfast, and Ginny had not eaten at all.

"I'm going to go to lunch. Most people should be gone by now. Ginny, you should come too. You haven't eaten today. Ron," he said, glancing mournfully at his friend, who was still shocked and shaken from the pain, "you do whatever you need to. But don't do anything stupid."

And with that, Harry disappeared through the portrait hole, followed closely behind by Ginny.

"Harry--" began Ginny gently, as the Fat Lady closed behind her.

But she didn't get to finish. Harry turned abruptly around, grabbed Ginny around the waist and pulled her towards him and forced her into an angry, passionate kiss.

Ginny attempted to pull away out of shock, but Harry grabbed the back of her head, and forced her mouth towards his again, painfully.

Ginny could not bring herself to kiss back the boy she had been so sure she loved since first meeting him. It seemed to her as though he was sucking out her breath and life through her mouth, emptying her of everything within except the terrible confusion that the day had brought. His mouth would not let hers go, and his hands were crushing her back...

At last, after all breath had long left Ginny and air had spoiled in her lungs, he released her mouth from his and breathed heavily, catching his breath.

Ginny coughed and panted, falling back limply against the strength of Harry's arms.

Ginny did not know what to do. She war sure now she didn't love Harry…but she despised him passionately.

And Ginny, her breath back, grabbed Harry's head this time, and pulled him down..

Harry and Ginny feel back against a wall and Harry turned them, pressing the length of his body against hers, as though determined to press out life all the life. But Ginny would not let him, and her mouth went to his chest, and worked up to his neck, his ear, his mouth, and his eyes, at last standing on tiptoe, pressed her face into his hair, inhaling the scent.

"Ginny!" cried Harry at last, stepping back from her in horror, and letting his arms drop.

Ginny looked back, eyes flashing. "I'm so sorry! I don't know what happened to me, Ginny! I was just-just so overwhelmed! I felt I needed to do something—get rid of this feeling! And there you were-suffering in the same way—and—I don't know!" His voice dropped to a whisper. "I hated you for thinking you could feel this pain I had! I wanted to rip that feeling out of you, and let it devour me."

Ginny smiled feebly, and nodded. "I know," she whispered.

She didn't look at him or approach him. "Harry, I don't know what to say. But…I have to tell you! I think. I think Hermione…loved me."

Harry stared at Ginny, whose own eyes were cast towards the ground. He approached her, and touched her cheek, causing her to look up into his eyes. "And how do you feel, Ginny?"

"I don't know."

Harry smiled sadly at her, and pulled her into a one-armed, brotherly hug. The contrast of this Harry to the one she had been kissing just so many seconds ago was so astounding that Ginny couldn't understand how she didn't cry. She wrapped her arms around Harry's neck. After a minute of the embrace Harry pulled away.

"Come on, Ginny," he said softly. "Let's go to lunch."


	4. Violent Kiss

Ron sat alone in the Common Room, not knowing what to do. His heart felt as though it had been stolen from his chest and replaced with a stone.

At last, he couldn't stand to be alone with his own thoughts. Harry and Ginny hadn't left long ago. He was sure he could catch them…even though he knew it wouldn't up. They didn't love Hermione like he did.

Ron stood, and went to the portrait hole, beginning to crawl out. He stopped. Harry had pinned Ginny to a wall not far away, and each had their mouth on the other, searching hungrily for any exposed flesh.

Ron retreated back into the portrait hole, not knowing what else to do.

He sat again and shoved the shock away. But his barrier was breaking down against the tide of repression.

He stood once more and crept back towards the portrait hole. He pushed the painting forward again, relieved to find that Harry and Ginny were gone.

And Ron made his way toward the hospital wing. He couldn't stand not knowing any longer. He needed to see her and to understand what was happening.

When Ron arrived, Hermione was the only one there and Madame Pomfrey was busying herself with a food tray.

"Madame Pomfrey?" called Ron in a desperately pleading sort of voice.

She turned around. "Oh, Mr. Weasley," she said, not at all scolding for his appearance in the wing. "You'd be here to see Miss Granger, of course? Well, go right ahead, I don't see any harm in it."

Ron nodded towards her thankfully, and approached Hermione's bedside. She was moving now, and Ron wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not. She was sitting straight up in bed, humming, toneless, pointless, and her fingers ticked in front of her, in an eerily steady beat.

Ron sat at the foot of the bed and stared at her, truly noticing her for the first time. Her hair was flung down in front of her eyes.

He went into his pocket, and pulled out a rubber band. He moved behind her on the bed, and pulled her hair back out of her face, lovingly pressing the side of his cheek against her hair.

He moved back to his seat at the foot of the bed, and looked at her. Her beautiful, pale skin, flecked with freckles. Her dark brown eyes, cast downward towards her fingers, her beautiful lips, light pink, steady…

Ron saw Madame Pomfrey out of the corner of is eye leave the room for a moment. And he moved in towards those inviting lips of Hermione's , and brushed his own lightly against hers, kissing her gently, lovingly.

Hermione did not stop her hum or her finger ticking. Ron pulled back from her, and tears were on his cheeks again. He stood up, and began to leave the hospital wing, when Madame Pomfrey returned. He stopped at the doorway, and turned back. "Madame Pomfrey?"

"Yes?" she asked gently.

"Have you figured out what's wrong with her?"

Madame Pomfrey looked reluctant, but saw the tears on his cheeks, and his trembling lips. "Oh my dear! We don't really understand it…she's completely catatonic." she said, stepping toward him, and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We're going to have to take her to St. Mungo's…"

Ron only nodded with mere understanding and left the room to find Ginny and Harry.

He made his way to the Great Hall. It had only been fifteen minutes since Ginny and Harry had left the Common Room for lunch.

When he entered the Great Hall, he saw them sitting at the Gryffindor table across from each other. The hall was almost empty…lunch was ending in five minutes. The next period bell had already rung and most were waiting in class for the period to start.

Ron went over toward them and stood silently next to Harry.

Harry waited for him to sit but he didn't. Harry looked up at him. "Ron, sit down," he said, but Ron just continued to stare.

Harry stood up.

And Ron, with terrible rage and confusion and tears, put his hand into a fist, and punched Harry as hard as he could.

His fist collided with the side of Harry's cheek, and Ron felt some of the skin tear beneath his fist and his own knuckles begin to throb as they knocked into teeth and bone.

Ginny let out a cry, and leapt to her feet, jumping on and over the table, throwing herself at Ron, as he prepared to throw another punch, pulling him away from Harry. But Harry threw the punch now, and it landed under Ginny's arm, catching Ron in the stomach, throwing all of the air out of him.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Ginny screeched, throwing herself between the boys, attempting to keep them from landing any more hits on each other.

But both boys were throwing all of their anger in their punches, now, compeltely lost in their pain.

"Stop it now!" Ginny cried, but Harry threw one last punch that Ron didn't have to feel…

His aim slipped and he caught Ginny in the chest, causing her to stagger backward, and put a hand to her breast in pain. Harry put his fists down and Ron caught Ginny as she began to fall backward.

"Ow," she said quietly, rubbing her chest.

"Oh, Ginny!" cried Harry in despair. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!"

"I don't believe you!" snapped Ron, helping Ginny stable herself again.

"I-I'm so sorry! I don't know what to say!"

"Well, you two shouldn't have been fighting in the first place!" said Ginny in a painfully quiet voice. "You're best friends! If we're going to get through this, how are we going to do it without each other?"

"Well, it seems to me that you two don't need me for comfort at all. Who wants a big brother around?"

Ginny and Harry looked at each other in confusion, afraid for comprehension to dawn. "I saw you two," Ron explained.

Their fears confirmed, Harry and Ginny stared at Ron, words forgotten.

"Ron, it's not what you think-" began Ginny, attempting to put her arms around his neck in a hug.

"No!" said Ron, shaking her arms off, tears streaming his face again. "You two don't have anything to be sorry for! But you don't understand! You two have each other! But who do I have? I mean, without Hermione, I've got," he let out a sob, and lowered his eyes and voice, "nobody."

Ginny didn't know what to say. She hadn't thought Ron had ever really had Hermione. She considered pointing this out, but she couldn't bear to bring any more ill will towards herself from him. She didn't say anything.

"Come on. Lunch is over. Filch'll be here to run us out soon," said Harry, and he began to exit.

Ginny took Ron's arm, and led him out with her.

None of them knew where to go. None of them knew what to do. But they all knew that, without Hermione, none of them would last long.


	5. The Fist Fight

I was in a world that was so different from the one I had left. A world I refused to let myself remember. I stood in the center of the blank room of my mind, walls of darkness pushing in around me. I was screaming, long, high, and painfully. My voice did not falter, my breath did not fail me, but my ears rang with the pain of the sound.

And then, I began to walk. Still screaming, each second louder, although it had now faded into the background sound of my mind. I walked, my steps steady, each a beat in an infinity of time.

I remembered no one, no thing, no place. But I remembered a pain, so heavy inside of me, so great and absorbing, that I had to keep moving, though I hated my mind and the darkness all around.

But here, there was only the pain in my throat and in my ears.

And that was the best I had felt in many, many years.

Ginny went up to her dormitory early that evening, closed the curtains around her bed, and stuffed her face into her pillow, struggling for breath to come between the fibers of her pillow case and the cotton stuffing. She was thinking now, something she had hardly done today, had not permitted herself to do.

They didn't know what was wrong with Hermione. She was simply gone—catatonic, although that really explained nothing. They were going to move her to St. Mungo's the next day. That is what Ron had told her and Harry when they had all returned to the Common Room.

Ginny had spun through a terrible spiral of guilt and shame, believing herself to be the cause of Hermione's unbearable pain.

Hermione had loved her. Ginny couldn't tell how long she had known it. She had only admitted it to herself earlier this day. But she had seen the signs long ago. Hermione would touch her whenever the opportunity came. Hermione would seek her out to talk to her, and would stare at her when she thought no one was looking.

But, then recently, she had seemed to be avoiding her altogether. Ginny knew now that she should have recognized these signs as proof that something was wrong.

How could she not have noticed the cut marks?

Even with Hermione avoiding her, she was around her and talked to her everyday. How could she not have noticed the pain behind those eyes?

And now, the question was posed in her mind: what would happen if Hermione woke up and she found everything the same?

But that thought only echoed another. Was Ginny so sure that she didn't love Hermione?

Ginny searched her soul for an answer and found none.

She had feelings for her: deep, and non-retractable, down into the every depth of herself.

She had had dreams about Hermione. Sexual dreams, lusting and longing. But Ginny had always written it off to her teenage hormones. She had had dreams about Harry as well. But was there something more to these dreams about Hermione? To her feelings for her?

Ginny continued to clutch her pillow to her face, punishing herself through a denial of air, wanting so badly to find an answer.

If she didn't love Hermione, and Hermione awoke, would she have to pretend to? Where would that lead for her?

But what if she did love Hermione, and Hermione never woke up?

The thoughts were too painful. The reality, too fictitious. Her ideas and thoughts rolled away with the fallacy and brought her into a dream.

Ginny dreamed that she was with Hermione. She was close to Hermione, now, standing in the middle of an empty library with her.

Hermione was her normal self, and Ginny was beyond happy just to be with her. She approached Hermione, to kiss her on the cheek, but her lips found Hermione's lips instead.

They were kissing each other, now, not in a violent, passionate, angry kiss such as she and Harry had shared. Not a kiss off terrible lust and desire for the other, that ripped the other's breath away. But in a long, emotional kiss, of understanding and embracing their love and desire. They pressed in towards each other, and Ginny felt Hermione's breasts press into her own.

Hermione's hands were around her waist, and lowering. Ginny's were in Hermione's hair.

Hermione was steering Ginny towards a table nearby, and laid her gently back on it, now on top of her.

Ginny went to kiss Hermione's neck, and as she did so, and worked her way towards Hermione's mouth, she found Harry's instead.

Harry grabbed her wrists and pressed them against the table over her head with one hand, and began undoing her shirt with his teeth.

Ginny struggled against him, in an erotically welcoming way.

And as her blouse fell upon, revealing her heaving chest, the face, the lover, morphed again, now into herself. And Ginny looked fearfully up into her own eyes, which stared angrily back, and the image leaned forward, and hissed into her ear, "You have to choose."

And then the lover disappeared, and Ginny was left on her back, her blouse thrown open, and the library now full of people, all staring at her in shock and wonder.

Ginny sat upright, and grabbed her blouse closed in embarrassment.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" said Ron, stepping out of the crowd. "You're luckier than all of us…you have them both."

And Ginny knew it couldn't be true.


	6. In the Prefect's Bathroom

Harry was alone in the common room, staring up the Girl's dormitory stairwell. Ron had retreated to his room, as well as Ginny. And Harry was fighting against himself, trying to decide whether he should call her down.

At last, he decided and poked his head into the stairway. "Ginny!" he called as quietly as possible, hoping she had heard him. He heard footsteps from the stairwell, and Ginny emerged at the top, hair messed up, her eyes red and wet.

She started down the stairs toward him and ran up to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Harry," she whispered into his ear, "I have to figure this out! I need to know!"

And with that, she kissed him forcefully, and pulled away quickly.

"Harry, you know how to get into the prefect's bathroom. Ron told me you know. There's no one there, come on!"

And Harry led Ginny out, not touching her, not looking back at her, but both knowing what was coming.

He lead her to the entrance to the prefect's bathroom and took her inside. As soon as the entrance closed behind them, Harry pushed her against the wall, and began kissing her again, holding back her arms, and then undoing her blouse just as she had dreamed. "Harry," came a moan from her mouth, but he did not respond, and continued his work with her blouse, a single hand holding her wrists, and his other all over her body.

And then, they slipped onto the floor, Harry's weight pressing down into her, arousing her like she had never believed she could be. His mouth was all over her body now, down onto her chest, as his hands worked to undo her bra behind. And then, he was at her breast, and down to her navel, and Ginny closed her eyes, feeling his mouth on her in a kind of ecstasy she had never known. But all the while, through her mind flashed images from her dream. The weight on her changed constantly in her mind from Harry's to Hermione's, and constantly, unceasingly, back and forth.

Harry laid sleeping on the bathroom floor, lying next to Ginny, his arms around her shoulders, and his legs gripping hers, possessively, powerfully. Ginny turned in his arms to face him.

She did not see Harry there. Nor did she see Hermione. She saw only a shell, inside which was a person, half of which she loved.

She kissed Harry gently on the forehead, and carefully stood up, so as not to wake him.

And then, as she did so, she thought of the dream, gently kissing Hermione, the gentle hands. Hermione, lowering her gently, lovingly…and then thought of Harry forcing her down and tearing at her.

She suddenly felt in desperate need of a bath.

She sat up, out of his reach, went over to the tub, and began to fill it with water and different fragrances of bubbles.

She pulled off the rest of her clothing that hadn't been removed and climbed into the bath tub, savoring the water, cleansing her, scrubbing her. She lowered her head under the water, swam across to the other end, and rose out clean.

Harry was awake now and watching her from his seat in front of the door.

She smiled at him, and ducked under the water again.

Harry's eyes followed Ginny in the bath. He didn't know what to think now. What he had done, what Ginny had allowed him to do, he knew, was only for her benefit, to clear up the cloudiness in her mind.

But seeing Ginny swimming there, looking utterly peaceful, he could not tell her decision.

Harry watched her only a little longer, before standing at last, and dressing himself fully again.

"Ginny," he said, "we need to be leaving. We don't want to worry Ron."

And at the mention of his best friend's name Harry cringed, thinking of how he would react; Ron, who had been so furious for their kiss.

Harry would not tell him. Ron didn't need this now.

Ginny nodded toward Harry, understanding, and then blushed bright red. "Um, Harry," she said, embarrassed. "Would you mind turning around?"

Harry nodded, with a smile, and turned his back, allowing her to dress in privacy.

"Okay," she said and he didn't turn back towards her.

"Come on," he said, leading the way out of the bathroom.

Harry didn't know if it would be considered love, what he felt for Ginny. But she was a friend…a beautiful friend. Who could say if love was anything more than that?

Ginny looked after Harry, hoping he wouldn't be angry, whatever her decision. Her mind had kept pulsating between Hermione and Harry, each with a different kind of physical passion, each with a different kind of love.

And Ginny didn't know.

But, worse, she didn't know about Ron. She would not tell him, and was sure Harry wouldn't. But how would he react if she chose Harry? He would feel useless and impeding, no doubt, and would disconnect, fall away from them… But what if it was Hermione? Ron loved Hermione. He would feel betrayed if that was her decision. But he would still have Harry as a friend, Ginny hoped.

And her thoughts continued to mingle along this confusing path as she walked into the common room, and up to her bed. She made no decision, but was painfully aware that she was running out of time.


	7. Waking Up

Ron sat in bed not knowing what to think, or how to think, it seemed. People were trickling back into the common room from classes, jabbering on about Hermione. He loathed them all for thinking they had any right to talk about her.

He stayed up in his room, not wanting to see or talk to anybody. However, it was not long before Seamus and Dean came in and walked over to Ron's bed, as though to talk with him.

Ron immediately stood and walked out of the room, straight down the stairwell and then out of the Gryffindor common room.

People stared at him as he plowed through the room without any greeting and shoved his way past some third years who were getting ready to enter the common room.

He did not realize where he was going until his feet took him there.

He had made a beeline for the Hospital Wing.

He silently opened the door. No one but Hermione was there.

He entered, and shut the door quietly behind him, and walked over to Hermione's bed. She was still humming and tapping as she had been when he had left her, except now her lips were moving, forming some soundless word.

Ron moved forward, trying to decipher what she kept repeating when, to his surprise, her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, and her unseeing eyes turned on him, looked past him.

And Ron was gripped by a sudden nauseating rejection. The air and the people, and the things everywhere were pushing in too close to him, the air was too foul, the emotions to harsh, and the reality too cruel.

He read the word on Hermione's lips at last. "Ginny...Ginny...Ginny" she kept repeating soundlessly, flawlessly timed.

'Ginny? No! Ron! I'm Ron, Hermione!' he thought desperately. 'And I love you! Love me, Hermione! Love me! Love me!'

But suddenly, there was no one else in the world. It was empty.

Ron was alone.

Hermione was awake and pain flooded her.

Harry was asleep but was dreaming a reality.

And Ginny had arrived at a decision in her own sleep.

Ron stood, not truly withdrawn as Hermione had been, but the terrible drastic stage before. He was wandering around, within a world he could not bear. He was unable to recognize people and faces as anything but pain, within a reality too terrible to exist. He wandered blindly around the Hospital Wing, hearing a voice calling his name. But there could be no one else. There could be no voice. Nobody else existed. They were only an emotion, written in by his own horrible, twisted mind. And in a climax of pain, Ron walked over to a nearby window.

I walked around infinitely in my mind, it seemed, but it could not have been, for I never felt age, and I had a defining moment of realization, that could not have marked an end of infinite time.

In my dream, there appeared before me an image of Ginny, radiant and beautiful, seeming to come from aeons away, with light-years of distance between us.

My scream became louder at the sight of something that had been the source of all of my past life's pain. But Ginny approached me, nonetheless, as though not hearing, not flinching at the terrible sound, which caused my ears to pop and ring. She approached me, and put a finger to my lips, though my scream did not stop. And she mouthed certain words to me, that then I could not understand, and faded into blackness again.

And a thought of another then consumed my mind, causing a pain, which that outside world of fiction had brought to me! 'Ginny, Ginny, Ginny!' screamed my mind. Every fiber of my soul and my mind that was left called her name, soundless with my screams. I yearned for her to come back. I yearned to see her. And I even yearned for an unbearable pain, would it mean that I could feel a pain from her again!

And I awoke. Not in a sudden, blinding bout of consciousness, but in my mind, I saw myself back on that bathroom floor from my dream, pulling myself back to my feet from my fainting spell, a throbbing pain in my head from the porcelain tub. I found myself opening the exit way, outside of which the small soft sound of fists beating aginst the wall filled my ears. And as the door slid open, and I felt someone by my side...

I slid back into reality, the hallway melting into the hospital bed, my feet coming from beneath, so I was now lying down, and the figure next to me changing into Ron, my best friend, broken down and screaming the same scream that had plagued my mind eternally.

"Ron!" I called out in memory.

"Ron!" I called again, in horror, now, as I watched him, screaming, take up from my bed.

I saw him walk across the room, not hearing my voice, and walk towards a window, staring at the outside world, still walking.

Ginny ran down an endless hallway, chasing Hermione, not sure why, but knowing she had to catch her. Hermione was fast, too fast to be real, but she had to catch her, she knew.

And then, as she rounded a corner of the hallway, she watched Hermione disappear behind the portrait leading to the Prefect's bathroom. And Ginny needed to be in there with her. She pounded her fists against canvas and stone, longing for Hermione to hear her and open the door. She pounded and pounded, her fists aching and bleeding, but her mind resolute.

She knew that the door would open. And she knew who would be inside. It would be Hermione, not Harry. Hermione in that place of lust and shared compassion, Hermione who she would be with, always, no shifting images, or morphing lovers any longer.

And then, at last, as the portrait was thrown wide, and a figure stepped out, Ginny woke from her dream.

Her heart was racing, and she had the unwelcome sensation of falling, though she was still on her bed.

Harry was in the graveyard. The same graveyard he had visited two years before, but different. There were no Death Eaters, no cauldron, no Voldemort. And where the grave of Tom Riddle had stood, there was now a veil, hanging in suspended animation. And in front of it, staring at the veil, not noticing Harry, was Ron.

Harry approached Ron. He was too close to that veil.

"Ron," said Harry, as gently as possible, so as not to startle his friend to jump forward and fall through. "Ron, back away from there," said Harry, more urgency in his voice.

Ron did not move. He continued staring at that veil. Harry walked up behind Ron, and heard an odd humming sound.

"Ron," said Harry again, and he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

And Ron began to scream. He screamed loudly, wordlessly, but Harry heard words in that cry, nonetheless.

'Hermione! Hermione!' echoed an unsaid word, endlessly repeating in the air.

And Ron fell forward through that veil.

And Ron fell forward through the open window of the Hospital Wing, seven stories up.

He fell through his own despair, for Hermione's happiness, his sister's happiness, Harry's happiness, all the time swimming through it, searching for his own. He fell through the air for an infinite space and time, searching, to never find a reason of his own to smile or live any longer.

And Ginny was stable in her bed again, the sensation of falling gone.

And Harry was awake downstairs, knowing a truth from his own dream.

And Hermione shut her eyes again, and laid her head against her pillow, awake at last.


End file.
